


Spit-Take

by beckzorz (heckofabecca)



Series: College non-au [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, F/M, Flirting, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 19:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18644683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckofabecca/pseuds/beckzorz
Summary: Natasha doesn't think Bucky gets out enough.





	Spit-Take

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr challenge! My prompt was “That’s it, I’ll be in the freezer until further notice, wishing I was still dead.” Hope you enjoy!

“Bucky, you need to get acclimated here.”

“I _am_ acclimated. I live here.”

Natasha snorts. She twirls a stylus in her fingers and jots down a few notes on her tablet. “Yeah, you live here too darn much. When was the last time you left the compound to do anything other than food shop?”

“I went clothes shopping with Steve last month,” Bucky argues.

“Yeah. Last _month_.” Natasha pokes Bucky’s knee with her shoe. He shifts further away from her on the couch with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s nice not knowing I hafta keep running, Nat. Stop trying to run me out of my own home.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh. “I’m not trying to run you out of anywhere. But it’s not good to keep so isolated! What are you doing to keep yourself busy?”

Bucky twirled a finger by his temple, lips pursed. “Working on my head, dumbass.”

“Yeah, but other than that?”

“Training recruits and stuff.”

“That’s not the stuff that stimulates your brain, Bucky.” Natasha tosses her stylus and tablet onto the coffee table and turns to face Bucky head-on. “You’re benched for a while longer, so why don’t you do something out in the world, huh?”

“Like what?” Bucky asked drily.

“Well, how about school?”

All he can do is blink at her. “What?”

“You heard me. I know you’re catching up on things, but there’s stuff you wouldn’t know about without classes and stuff.”

“Oh please,” Bucky scoffs. “The internet is more powerful than a professor.”

“The internet can’t think.”

“Not yet,” he mutters.

“Besides, I took an online course locally. It was fun. You should try it.”

“If you took one online, I’ll do that too.”

“No no no,” Natasha says quickly. “You won’t interact with anyone that way!”

“Yeah, and?”

She crosses her arms. “If you don’t do something that gets you interacting with people, Barnes, I swear to God I’ll drag you clothes shopping with _me_.”

Bucky groans, his head falling back onto the lip of the couch. “That’s it, I’ll be in the freezer until further notice, wishing I was still dead.”

“You’re sounding more like a gen Z kid every day,” Natasha says. “You’ll fit right in.”

“Really.” Bucky lifts his left arm, then drops it heavily on the back of the couch. There’s a notable thump. “Sure, Nat. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Well, I’m meeting up with a friend from my class tomorrow night,” Natasha says. “She’s a nontraditional student, too.”

Nothing changes about her voice or her face, but the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck stand on end. He narrows his eyes, but Natasha seems totally unbothered. Is he imagining things?

No, no way.

“You should come,” Nat continues. “Maybe that’ll help convince you.”

“Do I get anything if it doesn’t?”

“We’re going for drinks, and I won’t judge you for slamming thirty shots like Sam does.”

Bucky chortles. “Fine. You’re on.”

If nothing else, he decides, this will give him a chance to figure out why Nat’s mention of her _nontraditional_ friend is giving him the heebie-jeebies.

 

* * *

 

“Hey stranger.”

You almost drop your phone in your drink. How does Natasha _always_ manage to sneak up on you? You swallow your shock and hop off the bar stool with a grin.

“Hi Nat! How are you?”

Natasha squeezes your arm fondly. “Not bad. How’s the semester going?”

“Oh, you know.” You shrug and sit back down, patting the stool beside you for Natasha. “This week is when all my big final projects start ramping up. I’ve got two research papers due in May, and I was stupid enough to pick the niche things I’m interested in rather than, I dunno, something easy to find sources on.”

“Oof.” Natasha orders a drink; the bartender gives her a coy smile, but Natasha ignores it. “How’s work?”

“Oh…” You glance around, bite your tongue. “It’s relaxed right now.”

“Thought it might be.” Natasha’s green eyes glitter with private amusement. You press your lips together hard and look into your drink to keep from grinning.

“Anyway,” you say, “how’s things with you?”

“Alright. Work’s light for me as well.”

“You don’t say.” You catch her eye by mistake and burst into giggles.

Natasha sighs. “You’re incorrigible, aren’t you,” she says. You nudge her shoulder with your own and wipe your eyes.

“Probably.”

Natasha’s cocktail arrives. She tips it in your direction. “Cheers.”

“Cheers!”

You finish your drink and smack your lips with buzzed satisfaction. You lean on your elbows and smile at Natasha. It’s been a couple months since you’d seen her—almost since the start of the semester, really—and despite your semi-regular online communication, there’s something refreshing about spending time with her in person. The nature of your work means you’re isolated, so getting a chance to see Natasha…

It’s nice.

“Listen,” Natasha says, cutting through your musing, “I’m trying to help my friend through his second mid-life crisis.” She tilts her head and directs her gaze to the end of the bar.

Your eyes widen. “Dang. I hope I look that good at my _first_ midlife crisis.”

Natasha snorts, but you’re still eyeing the tall beefcake she’s pointed out. He’s a sight even in a ratty sweatshirt and frayed jeans; there’s no hiding the fact that he’s got muscles from here to Alaska. He accepts a shot glass from the bartender with the barest hint of a smile before slamming it back.

Dang.

_Dang._

He glances over your way, and you quickly look back at Natasha, color rising to your cheeks.

“Is that who I think it is?” you murmur.

“Probably.” Natasha takes a pointed sip of her drink.

“He doesn’t _look_ like he’s in crisis,” you say. It’s a struggle not to flick your eyes back at him, but you somehow manage to hold Natasha’s gaze.

“He’s a shut-in,” she says bluntly. “I want him to try school. Maybe you can convince him better than I can.”

You raise your eyebrows with a snort. “Right, because _I’m_ the one with a, what, degree in convincing people to do what I want? Nat, I don’t have _any_ degrees.”

“Well, neither does he.”

“I finished high school, didn’t I?”

You flinch and look over your shoulder.

Bucky Barnes.

He’d melted from his stool and materialized beside you without you even noticing. Natasha, unruffled as ever, merely rolls her eyes. You’re too busy staring to notice. He’d been less than ten feet away before, but up close…

You swallow.

His eyes dance as he glances at you, but he looks back at Natasha without bothering to even ask your name.

“Is this your nontraditional friend?” he drawls.

“Mm.” Natasha tilts her glass. The light catches in her drink, sparkling among the bubbles. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”

Bucky rolls his head along his neck until his face is turned towards you. “Hello,” he drones.

“Greetings, stranger,” you drone back.

Natasha smiles triumphantly. “My work here is done. You two should chat!” She slides off her stool and wanders over to the pool table towards the back, calling out to two of the regulars with cheerful promises of ass-whooping. You can’t help your smile as you watch her go.

Bucky clears his throat and climbs onto Natasha’s abandoned stool, his hip brushing your thigh as he squeezes by you.

You take another sip of your drink to contain your nerves. Now that Natasha’s gone, you’re all too aware of how close he is. With his elbows propped on the bar as he leans forward to order another drink for you both, his left arm is only inches from your right. Your eyes trace the lines of his metal hand and jump to the veins traced on the back of the other. There’s strength in those hands.

You swallow yet again and drag your eyes to his face. He’s studying you, blue eyes slightly narrowed and pink lips quirked. He looks… hostile?

Oh dear.

“How do you know her?” He jerks his chin towards the pool table.

“We had an online class together,” you tell him. “She always gave great answers to her online discussion posts.”

“I bet,” he mutters, but his focus is as sharp as ever even when he thanks the bartender for his new drink. “What class?” He lifts his glass, puts it to his lips.

“History of the Soviet Union.”

Bucky does the most impressive spit-take you’ve ever seen in your life. The bartender, a good five feet away, turns to stare along with nearly the entire rest of the bar. Bucky coughs. You press your lips together so hard your cheeks hurt as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You—” He turns, glares. “You timed that on _purpose_.”

“So what if I did?” You take a sip of your own drink, lips twitching even as you swallow. “It’s not like _I_ had any control over what class she was taking. Besides,” you add, “it was _really_ funny.”

Bucky snorts. “I bet.” He holds up his empty shot glass with a sigh.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll get you another one,” you blurt.

He looks you over again, this time with less hostility. Are you imagining it, or are his eyes darkening a little?

“Alright,” he says slowly. “But you still haven’t told me how you _really_ know her.”

“I _really_ know her because she invited me for drinks,” you say. “The rest is history.” You flag down the bartender. “Another for him, if you don’t mind.”

The bartender snorts. “So long as he can keep it in his mouth this time,” she jokes.

Bucky shifts in his seat and shoots you a private scowl. You just grin.

“Aww, don’t worry,” you tell him. “I’m sure they’ll have forgotten all about it by the time Nat’s pool buddies throw a fit when she beats them.”

“Yeah? And how long from now is _that_ likely to be?”

You crane your neck to study the pool table. You can feel Bucky’s eyes burning a line along the edge of your face, and you suppress a smile.

“Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t beaten them yet. But maybe she’s drawing it out. She does that sometimes. I’ll give it… five, ten minutes tops.”

“And are we betting on this?”

Your eyebrows fly up. Would he bet against Natasha? He’d bet against Natasha Romanoff? _Seriously?_

“On what? If she wins?”

“No, silly.” He flicks a finger against your arm. “How long it takes her.”

“I don’t usually bet,” you hedge.

“Well, I have a feeling I’m gonna hafta put something on the line if you’re ever going to spill how you know her. Cause there’s no way in hell you’re telling the whole truth.”

Liquid courage emboldens you enough to crack a joke. “Would you believe me if I told you we were lovers?”

Bucky laughs loud and bright. It’s rich; the sound fills you up from head to toe. You stare at the bar and take another drink. You will _not_ let your eyelashes flutter, you will _not_ —

“No way,” he says, grinning. His eyes twinkle. “You’re not bad, not really, but it takes some serious skill to hide the fact that the only person you’ve been eyeing all night is _me_.”

Alcohol sprays out of your mouth. Your eyes water as Bucky dissolves into fresh peals of laughter. At least he has the decency to pass you a napkin. You wipe your face and the sticky bar, cheeks burning.

The bartender passes with a snort, toweling the area dry. “I swear, you two…”

“Hey, this time it was all her,” Bucky says cheerfully. He leans his cheek against his hand, smiling fondly at you as the bartender shakes her head.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” she says. She makes off to deal with the other end of the bar, leaving you and Bucky to yourselves.

Under his soft look, you find yourself tongue-tied. That, and the knowledge that he’s one hundred percent aware you’ve been itching to get your hands on him all night. Does he know _everything?_

“Do you really need to win a bet to figure out how I know her?” you ask quietly.

His eyes dart along your face.

“Don’t I?” he asks.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Bucky sits back up, glances over to the back of the bar where cheering is just breaking out. He looks between you and Natasha, you with your steady gaze and Natasha with her wicked, triumphant grin.

You can see the exact moment the light goes off in his head. His eyes widen, his lips part, and his whole body tenses for the briefest moment.

He leans in close—your heart stops—but he just puts his mouth by your ear.

“She recruited you?” he murmurs. He pulls back, stares. You just grin.

“Sometimes, you meet some pretty cool people at college,” you tell him. You wink and take a sip of your drink. A small one, just in case. “Maybe you’ll find out for yourself one day.”

Bucky scrubs his hand over his beard, eyes glinting. Natasha loops an arm around your shoulder, counting her winnings in her other hand. Your eyes stay on Bucky’s as you lean your head against her shoulder, still smiling. He raises his glass to you.

“Maybe I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> So there's a lot of college AUs out there, but as a nontraditional student, I figured it might be fun to see what a college *non*-au would look like. Bucky Barnes, noted assassin and... college student? Yes please.
> 
> Let me know what you think :3


End file.
